


Comfort

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray V is shot twice and in the hospital. While Fraser is in the waiting room, an unlikely visitor comes to offer comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little writing practice. Thatcher and Fraser aren't madly, passionately in love in this one, working on the friendship/ crush of the relationship.

_**Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Romans XXII. v.XV** _

 

_**Cook Baptist Hospital ….** _

Fraser stood looking out the window of the fifth floor waiting room. He'd been standing there for the last three hours, not moving, barely blinking. Nurses, doctors, patients and visitors passed by the waiting room, some of them looking at the odd sight of the red serge clad man with his hands behind his back staring out at the city below.

“Constable Fraser?” A soft spoken young woman asked. After standing still for so long, the Mountie moved surprisingly quickly.

“Yes.” He stepped across the bland room toward the young nurse dressed in white scrubs.

“I'm Doctor Amis, I came to let you know, your friend is out of surgery and he's in critical condition for the moment but I'm cautiously hopeful.”

Fraser felt relieved for just a moment as he peered down at the dark haired woman with dark brown eyes and a cheerleader's body.

“That's wonderful.” The Mountie breathed.

“Where is his family?” Dr. Amis asked, looking around the empty waiting room.

“The Vecchios are in the chapel, praying.” Fraser answered, his mind already two steps ahead.

“I'd like to see them ASAP.” The doctor gave a tired smile to the tall, handsome man.

“I'll fetch them for you, Dr. Amis.” Fraser was gone in a red flash.

_**A Few Hours Later ….** _

Fraser stood at Ray's bed side peering at the monitors of the machines making life easier for the wounded detective. The Italian looked pale. An oxygen tube ran into his dominate nose while a bag of fluids and one of antibiotics hung on a pole beside him. White bandaging ran around Ray's hair challenged head and there were bruises from the fight he and Fraser had been in trying to stop a drug runner from using young, Mexican girls as drug mules between Chicago's O' Hare Airport and South America. A particularly viscous blow to the head had rendered the detective unconscious allowing the drug runner time to pull a hand gun and squeeze the trigger twice. Fraser had knocked the man's hand upward or the bullets would have done more than fracture Ray's skull and puncture his lung.

As Fraser stood beside his friend's hospital bed, examining the situation from all angles, he heard the heart rate monitor's beeping speed up. Ray began to thrash, his body bowing and convulsing. An alarm sounded.

“Help, someone.” Fraser rushed to the hallway and almost ran into Dr. Amis and three nurses running toward Ray's room.

“You'll have to leave, Constable.” One of the nurses said, trying to shoo the Mountie out of the room. He desperately wanted to see that his friend was alright but he knew it would be best if he left.

“He'll be alright, but we've got to do our job.” The nurse pushed a little harder to shoo Benton out. Without a word the Mountie left the room and wandered down the hallway to the waiting room. He felt like he'd moved into the dull room with the annoying, American sports caster talking about March Madness college basketball. Nothing mattered, not as long as Ray was fighting for his life. Fraser slumped into a chair in the corner of the room, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the tile floor between his feet.

“If only I'd been faster, Ray wouldn't be in here.” Ben thought to himself. Ray's sisters had huddled around their mother when they'd arrived at the hospital, all three women's brown eyes were red from crying. Francesca had pulled away and thrown her arms around Fraser, her shoulders quaking from stifling sobs.

“Is Ray going to be okay, Fraser?” She asked through a strangle sob as she peered up into his pale face.

“Ray is strong, Francesca.” Fraser couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't hurt her with the grim truth either, so he chose a kinder truth to reassure her. Frannie leaned on Fraser's shoulder and put her arms round his torso like a lost little girl. He'd patted her shoulders timidly before she pulled away to go to her sister and mother's side.

“Constable Fraser.” A familiar female voice called his name quietly. Looking up, he saw Inspector Thatcher standing in the waiting room door, her RCMP standard issue pea coat on and her purse in her hand.

“Yes, Sir.” Fraser stood up, snapping to attention.

“As you were, Constable.” Inspector Thatcher slowly crossed the waiting room, unbuttoning her coat as she walked. Fraser stood at parade rest, waiting for her to say something about being absent from the consulate when he was supposed to be on duty.

“My apologies for neglecting my duties this afternoon, Sir, I understand if you think it necessary to reprimand me.” Fraser began, running his left thumb nail over his eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Welsh called me after the shooting.” Meg took a seat in one of the cold, plastic chairs. When she'd sat down she motioned for Fraser to have a seat as well.

“How is Detective Vecchio doing?” While she didn't particularly like Ray Vecchio, she did respect him.

“He has a fractured skull and a collapsed lung, just a few minutes ago he went into cardiac arrest.” Fraser sat stiffly, looking straight ahead as he answered.

“I'm sorry to hear that, he's a good police officer.” Meg admitted, if a little crisply.

“Thank you kindly, Sir.” Fraser turned to look at her.

“How are you doing, Constable?” Meg asked, searching his face. She saw the sadness in his light eyes, the guilt and second guessing on his clear, well-favored features.

“I'm fine, Inspector, thank you for asking.” Benton answered automatically.

“I don't think you are, Constable.” Meg said softly but firmly. Fraser blinked, turning to look at her sharply.

“Your best friend almost died, it's okay to feel concerned, to be upset.” The lady Mountie didn't want to see her junior officer bottle up his emotions. He kept entirely too much to himself as it was.

“I'm fine, Inspector.” Fraser repeated. He saw the unconvinced expression on his superior officer's face but she didn't say anything.

“Have you eaten?” Meg changed the subject.

“No, I haven't.” Fraser answered, trying to think of what he'd eaten for breakfast hours earlier.

“Show me to the cafeteria, I haven't eaten yet this evening either.” Meg ordered, standing up to retrieve her coat and purse. The words were in order form but her tone lacked it's usual harshness.

“It's this way, Sir.” Fraser found his own coat and his Stetson. They walked down the hall to the elevators and rode down to the first floor cafeteria. It was nine o'clock but there were still a few people milling around, mostly the hospital's night shift staff. Meg chose a chicken salad sandwich and a bottle of apple juice. Fraser picked a roast beef sandwich and a bottled water. When it came time to pay Meg pulled out a twenty and paid for both of their meals. Fraser started to object but she silenced him with one stare.

“You don't have anything but Canadian currency, Constable Fraser.” Thatcher said matter-of-factly.

“That's a keen observation, Sir, may I inquire your method of deduction?” Fraser asked as he followed her to a table near the window overlooking the emergency room entrance.

“I didn't see any American currency in your hat band when you put it on earlier.” Meg answered as she sat down in the chair Fraser had pulled out for her. He rounded the table and sat down. In silence, the pair opened their sandwiches and began eating a very late supper. When Meg couldn't open the metal cap on her apple juice, she handed it to Fraser to open. Without a word he twisted the cap off and handed it back to her.

Sandwiches eaten and the trash disposed of, Fraser leaned forward.

“May I ask why you're here, Sir?” The Mountie's blank mask was broken by his intent gaze.

“I came to see about Detective Vecchio.” Meg answered simply. “I know he's your friend.” She met his eye for a moment.

“Detective Vecchio and you have a less than cordial relationship at the best of times. Frankly, I'm surprised to see you here.” Fraser tried to gauge her reaction. From the flash of her dark eyes and the way her wine colored lips pursed, he knew he'd caught her in a half truth.

“I may not be overly fond of Detective Vecchio but I don't wish him any ill will, he's your friend, Constable Fraser, I thought you might need some to talk to.” Meg began folding a paper napkin into tiny squares as she spoke.

“Oh, my apologies.” Fraser leaned back, surprised again and a bit embarrassed.

“How is the detective's family taking it?” Meg asked quietly.

“Mrs. Vecchio was nearly hysterical when she arrived at the hospital, his sisters, Francesca and Maria, were also upset but coping.” Fraser answered, toying with the buckle on his hat laying on the table.

“I'm certain Detective Vecchio will pull through, Constable Fraser.” Meg nodded confidently, trying to encourage her junior officer. She hated seeing Fraser so troubled, despite the mask set firmly in place.

“Yes, Sir, I'm hopeful as well.” Fraser's polite smile didn't reach his light eyes.

“Fraser, I'm a diplomat, I know when someone is being vague in order not to tell a lie. It's understandable for you to feel worried for Vecchio, or to feel responsible.” Meg spoke honestly. She saw the Mountie's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he looked away.

“I do feel responsible for Ray's injuries, Sir, if I had been faster the gunman wouldn't have been able to draw his weapon.” Fraser admitted, taking a deep breath afterward. He stared out into the neon night beyond the window. Car lights, traffic lights and business signs glowed, illuminating the sidewalks as people went about their business.

“And if Vecchio had been faster, or if you'd arrived ten minutes earlier, or later, or a million other _'if's'_ , Fraser.” Meg reached out and gently laid her hand over Fraser's, giving it a gentle squeeze. She pulled away a moment later, realizing what she'd done.

“You're right, Inspector, blaming myself accomplishes nothing. My mind knows that as the truth but I still _feel_ responsible.” Benton clenched his fists as he spoke, hurt welling up in his chest.

“Fraser, you and Detective Vecchio saved those four, young women from a grisly death at the hands of drug runners. They would have flown them to South America and killed them to get the packets of drugs they'd swallowed.” Meg pointed out, a proud smile playing over her lips.

Fraser leaned back and let a tired sigh escape before he met her gaze. Inspector Thatcher was correct and he knew it. Benton couldn't imagine losing Ray as his partner. The Mountie had never worked with a partner before, preferring solitude, depending on it. He knew Ray had his back and Fraser in turn had his back. Benton felt like he'd let Ray down.

“It feels like precious little consolation, I know.” Meg thought back to her first few months on the job as a rookie officer, she and her partner had been pinned down by four bank robbers. The lady Mountie had taken down two of the robbers but the ring leader, a washed out military man, was picking off officers one by one. Meg's partner was shot in the leg pulling a woman to safety behind their patrol vehicle. She'd watched the kindly, older man bleed to death in a few minutes. The bullet had nicked the femoral artery, there was nothing anyone could have done to save him.

 _“This isn't about me.”_ Meg reminded herself as she pushed thoughts of that dark day out of her mind.

Fraser saw the haunted look on his boss' face for a minute as they sat at the wobbly table in silence. He wondered what had happened. Inspector Thatcher knew the pain he was feeling from first hand experience, Fraser just didn't know the details. Whatever had occurred, the Mountie sensed that Thatcher truly wanted to help if she could.

“Thank you for your concern, Inspector, I very much appreciate it.” Fraser reached across the table and laid his warm hand over Meg's. She looked at his calloused hand then her dark eyes drifted up to the light of sincerity shining in Ben's eyes. A tired, half smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he met her open gaze. Meg didn't know who was comforting whom.

“You're quite welcome, Fraser.” She said softly, a shy smile pulling on her scarlet lips.

“Fraser, Ma wants to know if you'd like a ride home?” Frannie's weak voice broke the spell between the Mounties. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” She stopped short of the gray table beneath a harsh, fluorescent light overhead. Reluctantly, both Mounties pulled their hands back into their laps. Fraser met Frannie's questioning expression with an solemn one of his own. Inspector Thatcher shifted in her seat before recovering herself.

“Miss Vecchio, I just wanted to say I hope your brother has a quick recovery, he's a fine officer.” Meg nodded, a small smile on her features.

“Thank you, Inspector Thatcher, we're all prayin' Ray pulls through, he's always been a real fighter.” Frannie's eyes moistened as she tried to keep her voice from breaking.

“Allow me to walk you to your car, Inspector, it's late.” Fraser hopped to his feet when Meg stood up.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser, but no, I believe the Vecchios need you to drive them home, they must all be exhausted.” Meg nodded toward Frannie who was digging a tissue out of her purse.

“Ah, yes, you're absolutely right.” The Mountie toyed with his eye tooth as he searched Meg's face. An old pain in her eyes made him wonder again, what terrible thing had happened to cast such a shadow over her?

“Good evening, Constable Fraser, Miss Vecchio.” Meg pulled away from Benton's intense gaze.

“Yeah, night, Inspector Thatcher.” Frannie wished her with a sniffle.

“Good evening, Inspector.” Fraser watched her walk out of the cafeteria and disappear down the hallway in the direction of the elevators. Frannie watched him watch her, puzzled but too tired to care.

_**One Week Later ….** _

“Hey, Benny, how's it going?” Ray asked as he pressed the motorized bed's head into a sitting position.

“I'm fine, Ray, how are you?” The Mountie took his Stetson off and laid it on the window sill as he came to lean on the cold marble.

“Ah, no complaints, I get waited on hand and foot and there's a revolving door of blondes, brunettes and red heads.” The detective grinned broadly, making his Canadian friend smile.

“Now, if I could just get a descent meal, I know what Diefenbaker feels like when you put him on a diet.” Ray cracked. Fraser knew that the detective's mother had brought him something from home every day of his hospital stay.

“Is there any word as to your release?” Fraser changed the subject.

“Nope, Dr. Amis just keeps sayin' soon.” Ray threw up his hands in annoyance.

“I heard the 'Ice Queen', was here to see me that first night.” Ray had been wondering how to bring up what Frannie had told him.

“Ray, her name is Inspector Thatcher, calling her the 'Ice Queen' is disrespectful, and yes, the Inspector did come to inquire about your health the night of the shooting.” Fraser got down right huffy with his best friend. Ray had done it to rile him though.

“Frannie said she walked into the cafeteria and found the two of you holding hands.” Ray blurted out flatly, mixing the pot a little. Fraser's adam's apple moved like a bobber with a ten pound catfish pulling at the hook.

“Inspector Thatcher was simply concerned that I was upset after what happened.” Fraser answered honestly. He saw the naughty mirth in the detective's hazel eyes. Ray had baited him for the hell of it.

“Yeah, Benny, if that's what helps you sleep at night.” Ray raised a skeptical eyebrow. If only he knew that his friend didn't sleep some nights, thoughts of the stolen moment atop the runaway train replaying in his memory.

“She reached out to me, Ray, she genuinely wanted to comfort me.” Fraser's light eyes took on a wistful air, his thoughts far beyond the hospital room where he stood.

“I guess she's human after all.” Ray agreed, wondering what his friend was thinking but leaving well enough alone. Everyone needed comforting at times, even stalwart Mounties, or maybe especially stalwart Mounties.

**The End**

 


End file.
